


Ghost Stories Ain’t So Cheap (I’m sure you didn’t mean it)

by GilgaNyan (NarryEm)



Series: Adventures in Chaldea [10]
Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: (for gudao to bottom), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys' Love, Dream Sex, Eventual Smut, First Time, Foreplay, M/M, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Sexual Harassment, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Teasing, Yaoi, it's like minor sexual harassment from casgil to gudao and also archer gil to proto arthur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-07-20 13:57:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16138688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarryEm/pseuds/GilgaNyan
Summary: RainberryFalling on your blood-red lipsWhy are your eyes heavy?Is there somebody else you miss?Tell me what's going on?Before I go too farHow in the world is Ritsuka supposed to work on, well, saving the damn world when Gilgamesh is there to tempt him at the most random times?





	1. Are We Dancing Like We're Burning in Paradise?

**Author's Note:**

> Title and summary from ‘Rainberry’ by Zayn.
> 
> Damn you, Zayn for dropping this beautiful song right when I’m busy with everything.  Damn you truly.
> 
> This is a re-imagination of the Seventh Singularity chapter. Think of this as a behind-the-scenes of sort where instead of what you see in gameplay, this focuses more of the what-ifs and what-could'ves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tilte from "Hurts So Good" by Astrid S.

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

 

Someone had to explain the situation to him.

True, nothing had made much sense since the day Ritsuka was recruited into the Chaldea Foundation to ‘lend a hand towards saving humanity’ and such.  He had been travelling into different eras of human history to put history back on its correct path. Along the way, he had met numerous Heroic Spirits, each with their own set of strengths and quirks that made them invaluable for the task at hand.  It was their life story and love for humanity (for the majority of them, anyway) that intrigued Ritsuka to no end and made him love them all the same.

 

Just last week, Ritsuka and Mash arrived in Babylonia for the seventh and final Holy Grail retrieval.  He thought it strange that both versions of Gilgamesh refused to Rayshift with him.

 

The reason as to why became clear as soon as Ritsuka entered through the frontier that stretched out as far as his eyes could see.  The frontier encompassed the entirety of the ancient and beautiful city-state of Uruk.

 

He was granted an audience with the King of Uruk, Gilgamesh himself.  Even though this Gilgamesh should not already know Ritsuka, he greeted the Master as he would an old friend.  ( _Like Enkidu_ , Ritsuka’s mind supplied as they exchanged pleasantries.)  They were ushered to grandiose guest chambers and fed a luxurious meal.

They very night that the duo from Chaldea arrived, the King visited Ritsuka’s room alone and unattended.

(It would be a blatant lie if Ritsuka insisted that he kept his cool and did not scream like a total scaredy-cat watching _Saw_ alone in the dark.)

“Shush, you’ll wake the others,” the wise King warned.  The young Master nodded in silence, unclear as to what the hell was going on.

“You appear younger than what I expected,” Gilgamesh mused.  With every word he spoke, soft warm puffs of air washed over Ritsuka’s nape.  A melange of amusement and affection glinted in the heaven-sent King’s eyes, which shone above the flickering oil lamp that the King had brought with him.  Uruk was hot to begin with; the proximity of the King’s body and his presence alone was enough to raise Ritsuka’s body temperature by what felt like several degrees.  

“Y-younger?” Ritsuka stuttered.  Gilgamesh’s sunset-hued scarlet eyes sparkled.

“Yes, younger.  Immature, naïve little boy you are, Fujimaru Ritsuka.  But I reckon that is one of the reasons why ‘I’ fell for you in the first place.”  Gilgamesh continued, his fingers tangling and combing through Ritsuka’s hair.

“Pardon me, King Gilgamesh.  I do not follow,” Ritsuka managed.  It was becoming harder and harder to breathe with each second that ticked by relentlessly.

The King pulled back his face, his hand remaining in Ritsuka’s hair.

“Whoops.  ‘Tis easy to forget what this Servant body of mine can do.  Despite being a pathetic recreation of my glorious body in life, it does function quite similarly to an actual human’s body.  Not that my body was wholly human.”

Without Gilgamesh’s face literally in Ritsuka’s, air seemingly rushed into Ritsuka’s lungs.  He could feel the faint chill of the desert night and hear the distant crieds of ildlife echoing far away from the lavish palace.

“Each Heroic Spirit experiences the summoning differently,” the King proceeded to explain.  He had taken it upon himself to invite himself to sit in the centre of Ritsuka’s bed, his legs crossed comfortably.  “With my clairvoyance, my recollection of each Holy Grail War that fight in is rather vivid. The other ‘me’ refuses to recognise it as proper memories belonging the Spirit Origin that is us, but I disagree.  What we go through collectively remains with us as echoes of our deeds. Be it the Archer me that is supposedly an adult or the rejuvenated child version, their actions and thoughts are as though they were my own.”

Ritsuka must have worn an expression of confusion for Gilgamesh paused and gave a staccato of a laughter.

“I reckon it’s a concept that is hard to comprehend for a mere human like yourself.  One day, dearest Ritsuka, you shall live to see what I meant by these words.”

The King laughed again.  ‘Don’t you worry your pretty little head over this too much, little one.  What you need to do now is indulging in rest. I intend to test you and your companions’ capabilities to the fullest once the dawn breaks.  You’ve a long day ahead of you and everybody knows that the soothing nectar of sleep is the best way to recharge and to re-energise.”

  
  


~

  
  


Arthur yawns, his mouth stretching open to the widest.

Master and Mash have been gone for a few days now.  Dr. Romani has explained that for those on the current Rayshift mission, they have been at the seventh (and hopefully last) Singularity for over a month by now.

It still amazes Arthur to hear things such like that.   Only a fortnight have passed by since he has been called unto this era and he has yet to grow accustomed to the technology and other wonders of it.   Just last night during supper, Emiya (the Archer) had to teach him how a Blu-Ray system works. For the second time.

 

‘Why do you keep snickering?’ Arthur asked in protest.

‘My bad, Your Majesty,’ the Archer mocked.  ‘Your pout reminds me of someone i once knew.   And like that someone, you are also hopelessly lost when it comes to electronics.’

Arthur folded his arms in front of his chest.  ‘You keep addressing me as King but you’ve yet to show me respect befitting my title.  What you’re actually doing is teasing me for my incompetence!’

‘My apologies, _Arthur_.  What i meant was that I find you mistakes cute, for the lack of a better word.’

 

Arthur can feel his cheeks heating up at the recollection of that moment.  In life, no one had dared call him ‘cute’. It was nigh impossible for anyone to refer to him as anyone but ‘majestic’ or ‘honourable’ etc. since he was the rightful ruler and hero of Britain.

Oh, how much could change in a handful of centuries.

Whilst he was lost in his memories, his feet have carried him to the canteen.  Emiya is in the kitchen cooking up supper and a small gaggle of Servants are sitting idly in the corner by the windows, chatting amongst themselves.

‘My King,” Gawain and Bedivere jump to their feet as soon as they spot him.  Arthur raises a hand in recognition, at which the two knights sit back down.

‘I’ve told you to be more casual around me, Sir Bedivere and Sir Gawain,’ Arthur mutters.  Truth be told, he had never been the one for formalities. He had the fortune of being blessed with faithful knights who refused to let go of those stiff rules the society of their era inforced.

‘Old habits die hard, sire,’ Bedivere replies with a smile.  Gawain shrugs as though in agreement.

‘Any word from Master?’ Arthur inquiry.

‘Not since the early morning report,’ this time it’s Emiya who answers him.  He has walked over to the table to set down a few plates of salmon and mango salad with balsamic dressing that had a waft of citrus and mint.  To Jack, he adds, ‘No dinner unless you eat your greens.’

‘That’s mean, Mum,’ Jack pouts.

Emiya smiles, patting them on the head.  ‘I have something extra yummy for dessert if you promise to eat the cucumbers.’

‘Okay!’ Jack exclaims.

‘You look like a giant puppy who’s got a question with your head titled like that,’ Archer remarks.

Arthur feels heat creep into his cheeks as he straightens out his posture.

‘I was thinkin’ that you are rather good with little kids, is all!’ he defends.

Archer shrugs.  ‘Comes with practice.  My memories of my life are murky at best but it seems that I was the type of guy who took care of others before himself.’

‘That’s not a way to live,’ Arthur whispers under his breath.

‘Says the King of Knights who righteously endeavoured to make Britain prosper even under duress and constant invasion from enemies from across the English Channel.’

Both Emiya and Arthur frown as the new voice booms throughout the otherwise quiet canteen.  It is the oldest hero himself, minus his usual flashy golden armour.

Something about this ménage à trois has an uncanny familiarity to it.

‘Come to spoil our dinner, have you?’ Emiya snarls.

‘Faker, you’ve yet to learn of the proper respect for kings,’ Gilgamesh retorts without missing a beat.  ‘Or perhaps your respect to kings is limited to those who have visited your bed.’

It is a rare sight to witness the white-haired Archer lose his cool.  Rarer still was witnessing Gilgamesh who appeared to be genuinely enjoying himself.

‘Now, now.  We promised Master that we will behave whilst he is off to investigate the singularity.  He won’t be happy to come home to a Chaldea in ruins and razed down,’ Arthur intervenes, physically stepping in between the two Archers.

‘Oh, shut up, you self-righteous eejit.  You think that your alignment as ‘true neutral’ grants you the authority to go around breaking up fights as you see fit?  Besides, this little faker brat can help restore Chaldea to its previous state should the need ever arise. His faker magic is rather handy for labours such as that.’

‘Okay, I have had enough.’

The master inventor herself has come to end the childish pissing contest.   She smacks tops of the Archers’ heads, effectively shattering the tangible tension between the two of them.

‘Romani wants to see king Gilgamesh for vitals check-up and you,Emiya-tan, are needed in the kitchen since there are quite a few of us who would like your famed hamburger steak and steamed vegetables for dinner.’

Emiya glares at Gilgamesh but does not engage in further banter.  Gilgamesh smirks at everyone before he follows Da Vinci out the canteen.

As Arthur watches Da Vinci and Gilgamesh leave through the doors, he cannot help but wonder when Master will return.   Caster Gilgamesh has not made a public appearance since Master dearted and it is anyone’s guess as to whether or not the ancient King tagged along with the young magus.

Arthur hopes that Caster is still here because he is the only one who can sort of manage the unpredictability that is the golden Archer.

  
  


~

  
  


Gilgamesh wakes to the streaks of pre-dawn pastel light filtering through the heavy drapery around his bed.  His body feels stiff despite his lack of sleep.

Only a handful of days remain until the end of Uruk and the Age of Gods.  his people have been forewarned of the future that lies ahead and he is damn proud of them for putting forth their best fight against the demonic creatures that threaten them daily.  The fortified citadel that Gilgamesh has personally designed has been doing a stellar job withstanding the constant bombardments from the beasts that lurk outside the borders of Uruk and the triple goddesses’ alliance, and it’s all thanks to Melammu Dingir and the courage and determination of his people.

He scoffs to himself.  If his younger, brash self ever heard him thanking anyone—albeit silet in his own head—he would burst a vein in a fit of anger.

He senses a human presence outside his chambers.  Were he to venture a guess, he would say that it is none other than Ritsuka who is stood outside the chambers, fiddling with his newly attained garbs.  

“Ki-King Gilgamesh?”

Ah-ha!  Gilgamesh will never, ever tire of being proven right.

“Yes?” he draws out the word.  He can picture the _boya_ gulping all too well.  

“May I please entre?”

“You may.”

The boy all but stumbles into Gilgamesh’s bedroom.  His face is pale and dried out, presumably from the lack of sleep compounded with the Uruk weather that hi Japanese body is yet to grow accustomed to.

“A good night’s slumber and some honeyed water sprayed onto the face will take care of that awful countenance,” Gilgamesh advises.  Ritsuka’s face turns as red as the rising sun outside. He is so predictable, although this trait only adds to his cute, endearing personality.  “Has Siduri yet to inform you the proper manners of meeting with King?”

“I—hum, n-no, I mean—I apologise for my unacceptable appearance, my King,’ Ritsuka stutters.

“Relax, I am simply messing with you.   But I did mean what I said about your skin.  If you leave it like that, you will look like you’ve aged ten years in ten days.  Fortunately, being borne of a divine blood means that I never had to worry about trivial matters such as fine lines and sagging skin.  I loathe the gods for their ruthlessness but being a part of their bloodline has its perks.”

“O-okay. . . ?”

Gilgamesh chuckles.  “I assume you’ve come to discuss the true nature of my visit last night.  Either that you you’ve acquired a taste for casual masochism.”

Ritsuka takes a half-step back as Gilgamesh rouses himself and saunters across to corner the young magus against the window.   His Adam’s apple bobs noticeably when Gilgamesh takes another step forward. Ritsuka strains to support his own weight as not to lean on the window since it consists mostly of heavy fabric.  It’s a position that forces him to stand up with his face less than a centimetre away from the King’s.

“Do you not think it to be impertinent for a mere boy as yourself to question my ‘true motives’ regardless of what may have been intended?” the King whispers.

“As the chosen Master from the future who is tasked with ensuring the survival of humanity, I think I _do_ deserve the basic human decency of getting some, if not all, answers to my questions,” is Ritsuka’s emboldened response.

Gilgamesh cocks an eyebrow.  He has not anticipated that much bravado from the magus.  The thought that the youngling was enthralled as most mongrels should be.

He grabs the boy his jugular and jerks his head to and fro, gazing into his blue eyes.  No, he is still undertaken by Gilgamesh’s accursed charisma. Something else must have sparked the flame to this miniscule act of rebellion.

“Humans are more than mere toys for your entertainment, King Gilgamesh,” Ritsuka grits out.

“Adorable.  You think that one statement spoken against me will make you into some kind of grown-up saviour of humanity.  Reality is harsher and much more complex than that, _kozo_.”

He watches as a splash of panic spreads across the youngling’s face when Gilgamesh extends his arm and pushes against Ritsuka’s chest.  The boy’s facial expression switches from that of terror to anguish when he realises that the windows have neither glass panels nor wooden panes in them.  He falls flat on his buttocks, landing on the coarse sand that is everywhere in Mesopotamia.

“You won’t find much glassware in my kingdom, little boy.  They have not been refined yet and I haven’t much fondness for reflective objects that aren’t gemstones, anyway.”

He lifts up one corner of the heavily embroidered curtain and steps through the window.  He is now standing directly overtop of Ritsuka. He can see that Ritsuka is trying his best to read Gilgamesh’s face with no avail.

“And as to why I took the pains to visit your bed at night I think even you yourself should have an inkling.  You are a teenage brat, after all. I may have curbed my licentious appetites from youth but this Servant body of mine does still function remarkably like a live human body’s as I have observed.   As long as you stay within the boundaries of my domain, you shall serve to obey my every whim.”

With those words, he hauls Ritsuka by the neck of his stiff silk tunic and plants a couples of kisses: once upon his lips and once on the side of his throat to leave a bruising mark.

“You may take your leave now.  I find a morning stroll through the gardens helpful for clearing my head when I’ve a lot of going on for me.  Perhaps you should do the same.”

He has to bite back a smile as the young magus’ pretty face mottles red with a melange of emotions.

Ah, yes.  This one will be one fun new pet to train and to play with.

He just hopes that his other Servant self won’t mind the minor harassments that he has planned for Ritsuka.

  
  


~

  
  
  


‘What’s got his panties in a knot?’ Ozymandias huffs.  He opens his mouth Arash forks up some of the chocolate cheesecake (with semi-melted marshmallows atop) and feeds it to him.

‘That flashy Archer walks around as if he owns the whole world.  He’s probably pissed that no one here in Chaldea will let him _act_ that way.’

The pharaoh chortles.  Arash frowns when specks of gooey marshmallow escapes Ozymandias’ mouth.  When the Persian hero raises his hand to wipe the mess off Ozymandias’ jaw, the other Servant shakes his head.

‘Ah-ah-ah.  You should already know that that is not the proper way to clean  up my messes.’

Arash sighs in exasperation.  ‘I would like to remind you that we are sat in a very public canteen.  But since I know that you can be a downright asshole when you wanna be, I’ll pretend to give in for today.’

‘Good boy,’ Ozymandias pats the tops of Arash’s head.  The way Arash’s eyes shine and lowers his head into the touch reminds the pharaoh of an oversized puppy.

Arash leans in and kisses the spot that had the cake’s remains.  Despite having demanded such an action, Ozymandias still blushes at the (very) public display of affection.  Nitocris rolls her eyes from across the room and Brynhild loooks at them forlornly. If this is how the Valkyrie is without her beloved, Ozymandias has to suppress a shudder at the thought of how she will act when she does get her wish and Sigurd joins her at Chaldea.

Oh, well.   That day has not arrived yet so what Ozymandias will do instead is enjoy his time in the current dying world to its fullest.  After all, it is within a King’s right to take whatever he wants, whenever he wants.

  


 

  



	2. Forever Is in Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _But forever ain't half the time_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> _I wanna spend with you, you_  
>  I wanna be with you, you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Heavenly Way to Die" by Troye Sivan

 

Gilgamesh sighs.

In all honesty, he has not wholly accepted the fact that his other self in Uruk is teasing and harassing Ritsuka mercilessly.  One could apply the logic that since they are of an identical Spirit Core, it should not pose much of a problem. 

The reality of it is that Gilgamesh loves and cherishes the young magus too much overlook the details, the fine print in a modern day’s contract.   He loathes to lounge around in his bed when he has got a decent understanding of the patterns of behaviour and actions that his other self will exhibit in front of Ritsuka.   Clearer still is how effective the sight of the King’s penchant for being more naked than a newborn babe will be on Ritsuka.

(For the number of occasions that the two of them have shared a bed as lovers, Ritsuka still shies away from the sight of Gilgamesh’s body.  Initially, Gilgamesh had attributed that to the innocent reaction of a young boy not accustomed to the wicked deed of nocturnal pleasures. Lately, however, Gilgamesh still spotted Ritsuka’s eyes darting away from the King’s naked nether regions or seldom taking initiative during the times of sexual intercourse.)

Before Ritsuka left for the Rayshift mission, the King decided that it would be for the best that Uruk only suffer the rule of one Gilgamesh.

Now, however, he is willing to admit that he may have been the tiniest bit wrong.  Hindsight truly was 20/20, as the humans of this era were fond of saying.

A tentative knock sounds on the door.  He can already tell who it is behind the wooden barrier.

He uses the power from one of his many Noble Phantasms to swing the door open.  Arthur startles, his right hand clenching and unclenching.

“Erm, good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon.  Are you going to beat around the bush or ask me to go talk to my Archer self right now?”  The Caster can’t be bothered to sit up to properly receive his (predictable and, admittedly, adorable and awkward) visitor.

Arthur gives a cough of a laugh.   “I would—and most of the Servants and staffers—appreciate it if you could.”

“I  _ could _ .  But why  _ should _ I?”

“Because as King, you should care about the quality of life of your people.  Those of us here are hardly anything like your citizens in Uruk but we still have to live together.   And don’t get me wrong; it’s not like I want to be asking for favours from you.”

Gilgamesh bursts out laughing.  He can’t hold it in any longer. 

“There’s got to be a limit to just how selfless and a smidgen guileless you can be, O King of Knights,” he muses.

“Are you tryna to goad me into doin’ something I will regret later?  I don’t understand why that Archer is so interested in me. I’m a  _ guy _ !  A  _ guy  _ who happens to have a similar Spirit Origin to this Arturia Pendragon that exists in your world!”

Gilgamesh rouses himself from his bed and cross his ankles in front of him as his legs dangle off the edge of the bed.

“First of all, I think that gender hardly matters when it comes to someone you fancy,” he points out.  “Secondly, it is hardly any concern of mine whether or not my Archer self enjoys teasing you. True, his obnoxious behaviour affects all of us here but you haven’t given me a sufficient reason for me to go have a not-so-casual chat with him on your behalf.”

Gilgamesh allows ample time for his words to sink in.  Surely enough, Arthur strides up to Gilgamesh brusquely.

“I know what game you’re playing at, and I won’t let you have it your way,” he growls.  

The Caster stands up.  His abrupt action results in their foreheads lightly bumping into one another.

“ _ Am _ I?  Am I really playing a game or are you fabricating tall tales in your pretty little head now?”  It will be too easy for him to tilt his head and  _ ‘accidentally’  _ cause their lips to touch.  But he isn’t in the mood to see this British brat through his first sexuality crisis.  In fact, he would dare say that he would vastly prefer to have a long chat with his Archer self or even that Gawain.  Ah, perhaps not Gawain, as he is a trusted knight of this Brit.

“You most certainly aren’t talking without concocting ulterior motives either,” Arthur counters.

“Good boy!  You aren’t as guileless and maiden-hearted as you seem,” Gilgamesh praises.

“You mock me with your words, Archer,” Arthur spits out.  He visibly bristles, his posture akin to a wild animal come to encounter a venomous snake.  

Gilgamesh can’t help but lift a hand to pat Arthur on his head.  “I have always held a weak spot in my heart for blonds. Pale-eyed beauties even more so.  It is not becoming of a King to steal another King’s love interest but I can promise you, little knighty, that I shan’t be neither rough nor cruel as the Archer plans to be with you when the time comes.”

There it is.  The pallor of the British man’s face easily lends itself to being dyed deeply with red of the sun setting over the ocean (or the irises that belonged to the wise ruler of Uruk).

“Immoral words bespoke by someone of noble heritage would have been condemned in my court,” Arthur cautions.  “They still are widely disregarded worldwide.”

“Humans hailing from the Age of Man have grown grotesquely dull and flavourless, especially concerning the subject of sex,” Gilgamesh laments.  “Sex is the very force that moves and mothers life itself. Without it, none of us would be here in the first place, my dear King of Briton. Or is it because you suffered a bitter fate by your queen and your trusted vassal that you have come to hold austere view of sex and so-called  _ ‘immoral words’  _ that pass through these lips of mine?”

As soon as these words fall past Gilgamesh’s lips, he tugs on Arthur’s hair and force him to stumble down.  In a normal combat situation, the difference in their sheer physical strength would make it nigh impossible to allow Gilgamesh success in such a feat.  in this precise moment, however, Arthur was blindsided by his rage and thus lent himself to a rather vulnerable position in his ‘foe’s’ territory.

“For someone who defended his country against constant invasions from every direction, you sure are defenseless when it comes to defending your own body.  But then again, the old saying that the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach has some merit to it. ‘Tis true that it is enormously easier to aim for the heart through the stomach and then upwards since the ribs aren’t there to obstruct your path.  But ‘tis equally true that after a fine meal, a robust man of your age wouldn’t be able to resist a romp to work off that new bound of energy. Go on, deny my words and I shall waste no time to prove you wrong again. And again and again ‘til you see my point.”

It goes without mentioning that the Saber is indeed defenseless in his current position.  He can hardly call forth his trusty sword for there is not enough space between him and the other king.  The easier option is for him to yank his head back but that means he has to withstand the pain of having a handful of his hair pulled out.  Yes, as a Servant, inconsequential body parts such as hair can be replaced as soon as he goes into his spirit form but the lingering pain won’t be worth it.   Also, contrary to Gilgamesh’s view of him, he does have a streak of vanity within him. Probably.

“Oh?  Shall I take your lack of retaliation to mean that you relinquish the next hour or so of your time to me, Saber?”

Okay, that’s it.  The way Gilgamesh said ‘Saber’ is unmistakably in Manaka’s fashion, uttered solely to goad Arthur.

‘You’re pissin’ me off, that’s what you should take this to mean,” he grumbles.

“Then act like it.  You aren’t a farm boy herding sheep and cows on a pasture overlooking the cliffs of Dover; you are the god-chosen King of England whose legends rival few in this world.  Innumerable scholars and authors sought to find your birthplace and the fabled Round Table. This isn’t how a King reacts when someone has threatened the safety of his person.  You and I know that ruling a nation comes with its share of pain and tragedy. Losing a few strands of hair is nothing like ordering your own people to march to their death knowing what will befall them.”

Arthur’s eyes narrow.  Wasn’t one of Gilgamesh’s Noble Phantasms . . . ?

“Bastard!  What’s happening to Master?”

“ _ Our _ Master is enjoying the untainted divine view of Mesopotamia as we speak,” Gilgamesh replies, that smug smile coming to take its place on his face again.  “As he has been for the month that he has been staying there. My other self isn’t so tactless as to have him sleep in a stable or uncredited inn off the street.  It is only fair that the saviour of Uruk is tested for his competence by the sovereign, is it not?”

Argh!  It is incredulously difficult to fight this Gilgamesh using words.  Then again, neither of them are easy to talk with on any given day. 

Gilgamesh pets him on the head again in a rather dismissive fashion.  “It’s easier on your brain to give up early on, if not on your pride.”

Arthur doesn’t jerk his head back despite his intuition screaming at him to do so.  He never has shown uncertainty in front of his foe and he is not willing to start now either.

Just as he is about to tell Gilgamesh off, the door slams open unceremoniously.

And who other should be standing at the door than the notorious golden Archer himself.

“How rude of you to lay a hand on what I have claimed as mine,” the Archer muses, leaning on the doorframe.  His entire body exudes confidence and nonchalance as if to bely the words coming from him.

“How rude of  _ you  _ to presume that I would lay a hand on  _ your  _ plaything when I’ve already got a lover whom I devote myself to,” Caster retorts.

“Then how will you explain yourself out of this very scene that we are all actors in?” Archer queries.

“Simple.  I merely set the stage so that your slow ass can come bursting in to whisk away our very own Princess Peach.”

The reference to the popular modern game series, sadly, does not fly over Arthur’s head.  He has to hold himself back from pointing out that he should at least be called ‘Prince’ Peach.

Archer claps once dryly.  “What a sorry excuse of a stage master you are.  Even a peasant who has never set a foot inside a theatre would do a better job than you have.”

“So you claim and yet here you are.  Ready to unleash the Chain of Heaven to take Arthur as your prisoner.”

“Prison—”  he finds himself hushed by a strange tool that has dropped from the Gates of Babylon and attached itself to his mouth.  The object is smooth on his tongue and tasteless, and round in shape that is held fast to his face by a broad leather strap.

“They would speak poorly of me if I were to let the slim chance of you actually touching Arthur in ‘immoral’ ways become a reality.  Plus, I want to be the first one to bear witness when our Britsman finally learns of the pleasures only a man can show him.” Archer looks way too pleased with himself as he utters these words.

“P-pl-pleasures only wha’?” Arthur sputters with all the eloquence of, regrettably, a farm boy.

“Careful, Archer.  Your English boy is hardly the forgiving or curious type.  He would sooner go frot against a tree than do it with you.”

“Hey!  You’re assuming an awful lot here!” Arthur exclaims, indignation firing up his green eyes.

“My guest has regained his wits, as it appears,” Caster remarks.  “You two can kindly bugger off now. I have my own issues to solve and as the poets say, love waits for no one.”

  
  
  


~

  
  
  


Arthur finds himself staring at the blank, pale walls of the Chaldea corridors. He tries his best to ignore the looming presence next to him with no avail.

“That miserable fool!” Archer yells, followed by a string of curses in an ancient language that Arthur does not recognise.  His curses are responded in kind by the Caster through the door. When the door doesn’t open under Archer’s grip, Arthur assumes that the Caster must have cast some kind of spell to lock it and Servant-proof it.

“Are you sure that you don’t have a knack for playing Caster?” Archer bellows at the door.  This time, he receives no answer.

“Could he have created a bounded field?” Arthur asks.

“There’s got to be a handful of staffs and other magical trinkets that can lend him the power to do so, yes,” Gilgamesh responds begrudgingly.

This is why he hates dealing with mages.  The ones from the Age of Gods are even more tricky to deal with.  Damn their enchantments and silver-tongued ways!

“That’s one thing we can agree on,” Gilgamesh cajoles.  A blush creeps up Arthur’s cheeks upon realising that his thoughts were recited aloud.

“That’s a dangerous thing to do, Saber.  Any King would proudly proclaim his fondness for a blushing maiden.”

“You mock me with every word you speak.  No, even the very  _ breaths  _ you take insult me!” Arthur cries out.

“You need to realise that it’s  _ exactly  _ that kind of reaction that keeps me acting thusly around you.  Had you been a more hardened warrior and less of a human-hearted king, you would not have fallen prey to my amusement.”

Arthur crosses his arms in front of his chest.  “Surely you do not mean to suggest that to be King means to throw away one’s humanity!”

Gilgamesh sneers, his eyes colder than a viper’s.  “I forsook my divine blood as well as my human blood in my youth.  That flawed ideology of yours shan’t do as much as to leave a scratch on the views I hold for this world.  It’s comical to think that you were chasing after a Beast with a mindset like yours. For all I know, that wretched, good heart of yours will be your ultimate downfall.  You can’t bring yourself to slay your own Master even if they were to turn into evil incarnate itself. Yet you have the audacity to call yourself a protector of mankind!”

There is something about the Archer’s laughter that is equal parts fascinating and infuriating.  At this moment, however, it is leaning more towards the infuriating side.

“Your childlike anger does not frighten me, wielder of holy sword.  In fact, I would much rather see the other holy sword you wield.”

Was that—

“Surely you do not mean to suggest that a man of your status has never witnessed sexual harassment?” mocks Gilgamesh, replicating Arthur’s earlier question tone for tone, word for word.

“I, I have no obligation to answer your vulg-vulgar questions,” Arthur stammers.

Gilgamesh guffaws.  This time, he goes as far as to double over in his effort to taunt Arthur further.

“Aah, I am continually bemused by your words.  Until the next time we meet,  _ Saber _ .”

Arthur barely has the time to call out in protest as he watches the Archer’s form dissipate into thousands of golden specks that are whisked away by a nonexistent wind.

“Next time, I’ll be sure you pay to back,” Arthur grits out.  Well, the best-case scenario would be that there wouldn’t be a ‘next time’.  However, they are residing inside a single fortress, not left to prowl the night-shaded streets of Tokyo.  He has an uncanny feeling that the next time will be too soon for his liking.

  
  
  


~

  
  
  


The waves crash onto the pale golden shores in a soothing rhythm.  Ritsuka opens his eyes and sees that he is lying on the sandy beach in ancient Mesopotamia.  Of course he is. The skies are void of the accursed clouds, nor are the fields near and afar bustling with demonic beasts and the air split by their shrill cries.

“What the?” Ritsuka breathes.

His Chaldea uniform and the scarf that help amplify the output of his magic circuits and neutralise the thick mana of Age of Gods have been replaced by the traditional garbs worn by the citizens of Uruk.  Well, not exactly since his clothes exude elegance and wealth, just like the clothes the Gilgamesh wears. For someone who is facing the end of the world, he seems to have an endless source for wardrobe options and faces Ritsuka every morning dressed in an entirely new outfit, each more bedazzling and extravagant than the previous day’s ensemble.

“Hmph.  You don’t look as half-bad as I anticipated,” a familiar voice huffs.

Behind Ritsuka stands the King of Uruk.  Naked. Almost naked, Rituska should say.  His gold-hued hair is covered by a sheer ivory gossamer veil around the back and sides, fastened to the fine golden tresses by gems of every colour that they come in.  A tunic that is equally sheer but rich violet in colour wraps around Gilgamesh’s left pec and down his abdomen and hips, pretty much exposing most of his torso to any onlooker—which, in this case, is limited to only Ritsuka.  A silver sash ( _ not _ see-through) hangs over his shoulder, the front part of it decorated with gems shaped into seashells and wave-like jewels.  His bare feet slowly carry him closer to Ritsuka, hardly making any sounds on the soft sand.

It is obvious that Ritsuka’s outfit was designed with Gilgamesh’s in mind.  The dark emerald shade of his tunic and dark bronze sash complement the colours in Gilgamesh’s clothes.  Ritsuka finds himself immobile and unable to twitch even a single finger as Gilgamesh sits with his legs swung over Ritsuka’s lap.

_ It must be his scarlet eyes that hold him bewitched,  _ Ritsuka thinks to himself.

“Or,” Gilgamesh answers to his unspoken sentiment, “this is simply a dream over which I have control.”

Oh.  that works, too.

“I talked Merlin into lending his incubus powers for my use,” Gilgamesh explains.  “I didn’t want you to remember Uruk at its worst. This is the Mesopotamia I grew up in and seek to protect.  Those beasts and goddesses have done their damnedest to ruin it but no matter. I shall be the one to recover the former glory of these lands.  The last one to laugh, if you will, in this war amongst fools.”

“It’s beautiful, Your Majesty,” Ritsuka comments.  Truthfully, his eyes are drawn more to the King half-sat in his lap than the beautiful sights around them but whatever.  The King’s ego does not require more stoking.

“Is it, now?” Gilgamesh muses with a smirk.  Uh oh. He is on to something.

“Y-yes,” Ritsuka squeaks out.

“Then I shall pretend that I did not notice how tongue-tied you are around me.   Your reactions rival that of an untouched maiden with the purest of hearts. I thought you were lovers with myself in your time!” Gilgamesh sounds as though he is having a hard time holding in his laughter.

“I-I am . . . but I don’t see why that should mean that I don’t act like a blushing maiden or whatever around you.”

Gilgamesh snickers.  “I know myself. Me in that Chaldea of yours is not fond of the idea of wearing clothes in his private quarters, is he?  Also knowing him, he would not have held back for long before you two had sex. I don’t need to hear the details but something tells me that you were at his mercy for the majority of the times you shared a bed.”

Ritsuka can feel his face burning red to the tips of his ears.  Hell, even his neck and upper chest are aflame from the King’s words.

To no one’s surprise, Ritsuka is easily toppled onto the ground when Gilgamesh shoves at his shoulder with a single hand.  It is now that he realises that he has been half-sitting, half-laying on top of a silk blanket that covers the area of a small bed.  Gilgamesh is quick to climb into his lap and pin his wrists above his head.

“You make this too easy,” Gilgamesh says in a tone that suggests boredom and disappoint.  His sunset-tinted eyes, however, sparkle with a kaleidoscope of emotions that are shown to Ritsuka for once.

Wait, weren’t incubus known for using dreams to—

“Very good,” Gilgamesh croons, his hands skimming down the sides of Ritsuka’s torso and thighs.  “Incubi and succubi are demons that feed off of human desires, specifically the lusty kind. Merlin’s powers over dream accel in that area.  I would love to explain this but that can wait. Where is the fun in you knowing everything?”

Ritsuka sighs internally.  He should have expected something like this.  His own Gilgamesh back in Chaldea is known to pull sporadic stunts like this on a whim.

“Well?” Gilgamesh draws out the word, his eyes lowered.  His crouching position over Ritsuka’s body makes it all the more easier for his naked body to be shown to Ritsuka.  His nipples, hardly concealed behind the sheer violet fabric, catch Ritsuka’s eyes in particular.

“It shan’t bode well for me if all you can do is stare at my chest,” Gilgamesh utters.  “Be vocal about what  _ you  _ want to do.  I want you to surprise me by doing something.  Anything!”

Still hesitant, Ritsuka lifts a hand to splay it over Gilgamesh’s chest.  The king shifts his body in a way that grants more access to Ritsuka’s unsure hand.  Slowly, Ritsuka brings his thumb and forefinger together around the tight reddened bud and squeezes gently.  A pleased moan falls from Gilgamesh’s lips.

“Go on,” he encourages.

“I. . . I want you to touch me,” Ritsuka manages.

A beginning of a grin curls the corner of Gilgamesh’s lips.  “Touch you where?”

Gilgamesh brings one hand up to brush a stray lock of hair away from Ritsuka’s face.  “Here?”

His hand then drops to stroke the hip bone down to the inside of Ritsuka’s thigh as lightly as feather.  “Or here?” The back of his hand is dangerously close to Ritsuka’s crotch, which is quick to react.

_ Just like Pavlov’s dog,  _ Ritsuka groans mentally.

“I want you to touch my cock.  Please,” he adds as an afterthought.

“And then what?” Gilgamesh asks.  He wraps his fingers around Ritsuka’s erect cock without applying any pressure.  “I shan’t do a thing that you don’t ask for personally and aloud.”

Ritsuka bites down on his lip.  “I want you to stro-stroke my cock.  Un-until I come.”

Gilgamesh kisses Ritsuka on both his temples as his hand gets to work.  “Good boy. Not quite what I wanted but we’ve time to expand on these. My patience is finite, though.”

There is a flash of  _ something  _ in Gilgamesh’s eyes before Ritsuka finds himself flipped over into a crouching position with his ass pointed up.  Gilgamesh’s slippery, slightly cool fingers circle around the rim of Ritsuka’s hole.

“Put it-it in me.  I want you to put your finger inside of me,” Ritsuka whispers, his throat and lips struggling to form the words.  Is there an incense of sorts in the air that is making him heady like this? It’s hard to think rationally.

The first intrusion doesn’t hurt, surprisingly.  It’s probably due to the fact that they are in a dream.  Less than a minute passes before Ritsuka’s body has opened up and is ready for more.

“M-more.

Although Ritsuka cannot see Gilgamesh’s face to read his expressions, the King seems more than happy to oblige.

“Look at you,” Gilgamesh says in an impossibly sultry voice.  “Hungry for more already.” As if to prove (or punctuate) his words, he spreads his two fingers as wide as they go before slipping in a third finger.  Ritsuka’s back arches up, or tries to, as Gilgamesh’s hand upon his back suppresses his movements.

“Mmmnnnphh. . .”

The King chuckles into Ritsuka’s ear.  “You’ll have to speak up,  _ love. _  I do not speak mongrel.”

Ritsuka swallows thickly.  The words are there, out of reach but taunting him with how close they are.

“I want y-you to fuck me, Gilgamesh,” he stammers out.

“Splendid.  Now that was so hard, was it?”

Despite the words, there isn’t any sarcasm nor sadistic glee in Gilgamesh’s voice.  All he wants to hear is the confirmation of his being right.

Gilgamesh grabs Ritsuka by his chin and cranes his next around in none too gentle of a manner.  The King’s lips and tongue are sweet and hot—too sweet, one might say. Ritsuka is too distracted by the sensations on his mouth that he doesn’t really feel Gilgamesh align his cock to his hole.  He does, however, feel the initial stretch and burn as the tip of it pushes past the slicked ring of muscles.

Perhaps the gasp and moan he let out sounded pained, for Gilgamesh pauses after the first little push inside.

“Do not presume to be a fool who attempts to withstand pain,” Gilgamesh orders.  “There is no shame in taking things slowly. Sex is the act of sharing pleasure and intimacy.  The purpose is lost when one partner is unable to enjoy the act wholly.”

“I’m fine.  I think. As long as you go in slowly, I think I should be fine.”

Gilgamesh trails a finger down Ritsuka’s spine.  “I won’t stop you if you say so. But be warned that I am not in the mood to hold back when we have come this far.”

Ritsuka doesn’t have the time to ask what the King meant before Gilgamesh slides all the way inside.  The alien sensation of being full and stretched out gnaws on Ritsuka’s nerves but it’s nothing too unbearable.  He strains to get his breathing back under control. He knows that the Caster can feel the wild beat of his heart with their bodies pressed tightly together.

“It’s a wonder my other self never thought to be the one to penetrate you,” Gilgamesh muses.  He hasn’t made a move in a couple of minutes to allow Ritsuka time to adjust.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Ritsuka asks, perhaps too snappily.  There. It’s getting easier to breathe and he doesn’t sound all breathless and airy.  He even twists his upper body around to take a good look at Gilgamesh’s face.

The King smirks.  “It is exactly as I said it.  There was no man every brave or brainless enough to try to fuck  _ me _ , the godly King of their state.  At least, not during my lifetime.”

Ritsuka is conflicted between wanting to ask who this brave and brainless man was and not wanting to learn of Gilgamesh’s past lovers.   It feels childish and stupid to feel jealous towards what has happened in the past—or even in a different timeline to his own.

“Ah, but is that not what many mortals would define as ‘love’?”

Again, Ritsuka is not granted the time to respond, or even to think as a matter of fact.

Gilgamesh must have decided that he has played nice for long enough.  He pulls his hips back and thrusts forward, again, not exactly in a gentle way.  Ritsuka is not in the position to complain as sparks of pleasure tingle up his spine.  Gilgamesh aims his thrusts a bit downward, which intensifies this strange pleasure further.

“It’s too early to be overwhelmed, Ritsuka,” Gilgamesh purrs.  He takes Ritsuka’s hard, leaking erection into his hand and starts to stroke it in tandem with his strokes.  “After all, we’ve only just begun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~don't ask me why this porn with plot keeps getting longer and longer~~
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> so this started out as a porny behind-the-scenes to the Seventh Singularity just so that I have an excuse to write smut between Gudao and CasGil in his own time with a sprinkle of Archer Gil harassing proto Arthur . . . . I have no idea how this mess was born.

**Author's Note:**

> awkward place to end but hey, I just wanted this out and it's a better place for a break than in the middle of a smut scene.
> 
> please follow me on [Tumblr](http://www.gilganyan-24.tumblr.com) for occasional fic updates and heaps of random fandom chaos!
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> ~~let's see if I can finish this story before the Seventh Chapter release in N. Am. . . I'm betting against it, ahaha~~


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